


Lessons

by Mafiagf



Series: Bill/Reader [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, first fic lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mafiagf/pseuds/Mafiagf
Summary: Based loosely on the random encounter where Javier and Arthur rescue Bill from a gang of bounty hunters, cos who can resist a big, bear of a man tied up and spread with a penchant for praise?





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> First bit of writing in a long time, and first fic ever(!) I have a real soft spot for Bill but God knows he can be a handful, and a headache at the best of times lol

When one brings the life of an outlaw to mind it conjures pictures of blood, violence and adrenaline but today is anything but that. Today is shopping day. Every few weeks when stocks are low and one or several demands are made for specific items to be restocked its someone’s turn to take the wagon into the local town and load up and ship back out before any questions are raised. You had managed to dodge this particular chore for a few weeks but your luck soon ran out as a hand clapped your shoulder and you quickly turned to see Arthur’s fakest smile and a seemingly never-ending shopping list in hand. You groaned loudly in protest, raising your head to the sky to curse whatever cruel being was responsible and resigned yourself to your fate. Out of everything, the hay bales, the firewood, and guard duty it was by far the worst of the chores for the sheer boredom that overcame you. How could it be that you were a decent part time bounty hunter reduced to the worst of tasks? 

Regretting every decision that ever put you in this position, you slowly (very slowly) made your way to the wagon where Arthur received last minute item requests from Tilly and Ms Grimshaw from the General Store in Valentine. Raising your foot to haul yourself to your seat you feel a hand grab your arm and turn you, revealing a dishevelled as ever Bill Williamson who had only just woken from his appearance and lack of his trademark hat. “Where ya goin’?” He mumbled quietly, sleep not entirely gone from his voice making you smile. “It’s my turn to do the shopping run with Arthur. Hopefully shouldn’t be too long, big guy” You reassure him and kiss his cheek, the simple act bringing colour to his face though thoroughly hidden beneath his rough beard. Still relatively unfamiliar with such affection, he smirks and scratches his face to mask the rosy hue. He gives your smaller hand a squeeze just as Arthur sits atop the wagon, eyes falling on the two of you. “Good God not this again…” He sighs to himself and shakes his head. Leaning over the side he whistles and gets both your attention. “The quicker you let her go, Bill the quicker she’ll come back! Well, if she does at all” He teases and raises his eyes as he lights the cigarette between his lips. 

The relationship between the two of you garnered much attention…specifically confusion among the camp members. Most particularly from the women, who delighted in crazed laughter at the idea of it before fading into deep silence at the realisation you had been serious about wanting to be with Bill of all people. Still they were moderately supportive of your wishes but would consistently remind you of your worth and any fetching men that they had happened to see in town on their exploits. You appreciated the sentiment but none of their words or jokes could sway your mind, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself. What mattered was your happiness, something you were determined to hold onto with him. 

You squeeze Bill’s larger hand in yours again after he curses that “Goddamn Morgan” again in embarrassment and leave him by the camp entrance as you make your way onto the wagon, waving to him briefly and watching him disappear from view. You turn your attention to Arthur, still smoking and watching the road quietly, rubbing the horses’ reigns between his fingertips. “Do you really need to tease him like that? You know what he’s like.” You exhale in a sigh. He simply turns to look at you and smiles, cigarette threatening to fall out. “Aw I don’t mean nothin’ by it, just haven’t seen him like this before! I just can’t stop myself saying somethin’. I mean who’da thought big Bill Williamson would go and get himself a girl? A goddamn bounty hunter no less!” He giggles to himself at the idea of it all, his history with Bill going back several years shows you just how isolated Bill had kept himself. Bill had not been so fortunate when word of your relationship broke in camp, courtesy of none other than local gossip Sean MacGuire who blurted that he had seen the two of you near camp looking “fierce cosy” up to one another. Bill had been teased and ribbed mercilessly for a solid week, notably the jokes and poking would never be uttered in your presence, for fear of being smacked on the head by you as you had become accustomed to doing when someone was being an idiot (nearly always either Bill, Sean or John). The fear most of the boys had for you was welcomed, being a bounty hunter had meant they were kept on their toes for months after you first joined, something you would always encourage to keep them in line. Finding someone in this line of work wasn’t exactly an easy task, especially when you harbour feelings for someone who’d be a cash cow under normal circumstances. The two of you had only been together less than a month, and due to Bill’s anxieties over his appearance and self-worth, the two of you had done less than anything but hugs and gentle kisses here and there. Restraint wasn’t something you particularly prided yourself on and Bill was someone who thrived in self-indulgence to a sickening point, but you didn’t pressure him to anything, letting it take its natural course.

Lost in the thought of acting on your feelings together, a harsh jolt goes through you as you pass the train tracks just before the entrance to Valentine. Had you really been lost in thought that long? Getting to grips with your surroundings again, you notice Arthur’s sly grin. “What?” You ask defensively, scratching an invisible itch on your face to hide the blushing cheeks from your daydreaming. “Nothin’. Just nice to see you happy is all” he speaks plainly as he brings the wagon to a stop around the corner of town, the sentiment touching your heart as you move down from your seat. You’d become quick friends with Arthur from the beginning of your time with the gang, much to Bill’s chagrin as he had always envied Arthur as it was, with his position as third in command and very much akin to a son to Hosea and Dutch.

Not to mention his way with words, easily expressing himself without a second thought and having his opinion valued in plans or schemes throughout the years, Bill frequently was reminded of arousal masked as jealousy when he observed Arthur’s good looks. A tall, built frame, clear skin, sharp jaw and vividly bright eyes were a stark contrast to himself who he so often loathed. You however, were quick to reassure him of his own traits you so adored and that you felt for Arthur how you would a brother. The grumbled response from Bill reminded you “there’s a lotta freaks out there, ya know” before a quick turn of his head saw your unimpressed face staring back. “I-I don’t mean that you-you’re a freak! I’m uh just tryin’ ta kid around...I…I ain’t used to bein’ someone’s first choice”. Your heart ached for him, and the best way you knew to reach him - you had to show him, you realised. You lifted your hand to his cheek, Bill subconsciously trying to lean away before the contact was made. Too used to punches, hits and cuts over the past several years and even before then in his Army days he so desperately despised and longed to leave behind. Since then he always leaned in when you touched his face, letting his actions speak clearer than his words. His self-esteem grew leaps and bounds under your care, but the bouts of paranoia and self-pity were something you’d both been able to overcome in your time together.

In your brief walk to the General Store, Arthur whistles to himself an upbeat tune with no discernible name before opening the door for you, still all the while whistling to himself. “Oh, what a gentleman you are, Mr. Morgan!” you laugh and enter the shop, taking in the produce for sale for the horses immediately. Arthur quietly responds “’Fraid not, Ma’am. You’re simply far too accustomed to your barbarian- Alright, alright I’ll stop!” He raises his hands when you shoot him another glare and makes his way to the clerk, quickly striking up conversation about the Sheriff and some woman he’s apparently far too friendly with. Once the list is handed over, Arthur calls you back to him at the desk, scratching his stubble loudly and stifling a yawn. “Gonna take a bit to load all this up, you wanna go over to the gunsmith and order us some more ammunition? Just let ‘em know where the wagon is and I’ll meet you out there” He asks quietly, awaiting your response with the clerk still somehow managing to continue his local gossip. You nod to him and begin to walk out the door, worn floorboards squeaking with every step. “Quicker I go, quicker I’m back” You remind him, pointing at Arthur and turning to leave, seeing him wave his hand and smile as he returns to the one-sided conversation with the shop proprietor.

You leave the list of goods with one of the shop assistants, clearly nervous to be working at all let alone serving a woman with several crates of ammunition. “I’ll have this brought out to you in just a second, Ma’am! Real sorry for the delay, again…” He mumbles, gesturing back to the list enthusiastically in one hand and raising the cash in the other. The store is unsurprisingly bustling, and a group of several men crowd around the front desk are badgering the owner for case after case of repeater and shotgun cartridges.

“There’s no worries, really. Thanks again. Appreciate it!” You call to the young man scurrying behind the desk once more. With your hand on the doorknob you freeze at the conversation occurring behind you between two of the men at the desk. Unable to grasp the rest of the conversation, you shake your head and open the door before unmistakably hearing the name Williamson being mentioned. “Fuck fuck fuck” Your brain races, you had known they were familiar. It was no surprise for other bounty hunters to be sniffing around the area as the others had made little good on their promise to lie low. Bill probably became known to the locals after that goddamn bar fight he’d started a few weeks ago, it was only a matter of time you supposed. You eyed the group over your shoulder quickly, assessing them within a few seconds as not being the honourable kind. If they found him, he’d more than likely be beaten close to death before being brought to the law, getting a good rush out of the chase and better pay for bringing the bounty in alive. You leave the store, striding quickly to the wagon, grateful to see the wagon is nearly already loaded up. The gunsmith assistants having brought out the crates from the back of the store you think, trying to distract yourself from the worry gnawing your stomach. Arthur greets you cheerfully but stops himself when he sees your face, paler than ever.

“What’s happened?” He whispers, pulling you aside from the workers lugging the goods into the back. 

“Bunch of bounty men stocked up in the store, looking for Bill” You spit out lowly, eyes darting around your surroundings, heels grinding into the soft dirt beneath you.

“Shit…Alright let’s get back and keep to ourselves.” He joins you in eyeing those around him, this hadn’t been the first time they’d had a situation like this, and knowing Bill it wouldn’t be the last. As good as he’d become with your guidance, he was still a stubborn and hot-headed fool. Arthur notices you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, anxiously bouncing in place. He brings a heavy hand to your shoulder and pulls you closer, “He’s gonna be fine.” He emphasises each word and squeezes your shoulder. You looked up at him and nodded, releasing a heavy sigh as you pat the hand on your shoulder. He leads you back to the wagon, the rest of the journey back to camp spent in silence. The only sounds the heavy breathing of the horses and the familiar and reassuring creaks of the wheels on the dirt roads.

The minute the wagon began to slow towards Pearson’s section, you threw yourself onto the ground head darting around to find Bill. You finally spot him sitting by the games table next to John and Hosea. A brief moment of calm comes over you, and having heard the shouts from Arthur for Sean and Lenny to help unload the wagon you see his head turn to the sound, eyes falling on you. A visible breath leaves his chest, a part of your brain noticing and admiring how he worries just as much. He doesn’t finish his conversation at the table and instead rises so quickly, the chair he sat on clatters to the ground as he hastily approaches. Knowing he’s safe allows you to return to the task at hand, heaving heavy sacks towards Pearson’s wagon before strong hands take them from you. Though he knew perfectly well how capable you were, Bill allowed himself to carry them. Secretly relishing in the way your eyes always followed the rise of his chest and flexing of his arms as he set them down on the ground. It was one of the only times he truly felt desirable, and he somehow always managed to find something that needed lifting when you were present. Not that you minded. When he dropped the bags, you rubbed between his shoulder blades, the flannel material heating up under your touch and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for that, big guy” You say, noticing a quick smile reach his hazel eyes at the nickname. That one never failed to get his attention. The two of you walk back to rest of the gang unloading and handing out supplies. Bill leans against the old vehicle and admires you silently, you hate to be the one to break this quiet moment. “I need to tell you something” You quickly blurt out, the words carrying a tone you hadn’t intended for. Bill’s eyes softened, but shoulders tensed at the prospect, misunderstanding entirely. “Uh-oh…finally come to our senses have we?” You hear Sean’s singsong voice mocking from above you. Lenny smirking to himself before seeing your face, quickly losing the expression and hitting his friend’s arm repeatedly in a vain attempt to halt him. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bill begin to breathe deeply, this mustn’t have been the first time today he’d been teased. It was nearly clockwork that Sean would mention to him casually that sooner or later you’d leave him, or reveal it had all been an elaborate bet to fool the larger man. You see his fists clench and release and repeat under his crossed arms. You reach for him and meet his eyes, “It’s not like that. Though if anyone’s heard that speech more than anyone else here, it’d be our friend, Sean.” You try to cheer Bill up, his mood lightening somewhat at the disgusted protests of the Irishman above you. “There’s bounty hunters in Valentine. Saw them in the gunsmiths, they’re out looking for you.” He tenses again, you hear him curse under his breath as he shakes his head. “I think you should stick around camp for the next little while, try not to tempt fate y’know?” You reason, cocking your head to make your point across that it wasn’t you believed he couldn’t defend himself, but that you worried for his wellbeing. This point was almost made had it not been for the further intrusion of Sean, who had grown weary of the loving display before him.

“How do we know this wasn’t your plan all along? That aren’t the one who tipped them off about poor ol’ Bill? Sure Jesus, you could be the ringleader!” His train of thought quickly derailed by Lenny who was shaking his shoulder violently to avoid the wrath of either Bill or yourself. “No! No!” He admonished Lenny. “You could have been real sly this whole time and strung this poor fella all along?” He wagged his finger at you in a mockery of your own habit. “That’s a very cute idea now. Pick off the weakest fella, now it really makes sense why you never went for mesel-” 

Before any of you could stop him, Bill had grabbed the younger man by the collar, dragging him from the wagon with one hand before throwing him into the mud. Sean’s pitiful screams and attempt to scramble away from the growling man only became more chaotic as Bill threw himself on top of him, spitting out curses and growls as he kept pushing Sean’s face into the muck and filth brought in by the wagon. Sean’s hands desperately tried to push himself up from Bill’s grip but the brute force of him proved too much. Lenny jumped down in a weak attempt to free his friend, Bill simply shouting at him to leave. You rushed to Bill’s ear and attempted to calm him “He’s not worth it, just leave him! You know what he’s like! He loves the sound of his own voice!” You reasoned, the words not registering to Bill through his rage. He continued to grasp the back of the redhead’s neck and hold his face in the much, his nails scratching wildly at the larger hand holding him down effortlessly. By the time Arthur and Charles ran over, grabbing Bill’s arms and dragging them back as much as they could he kicked and swore blindly at them all. Lenny helped Sean up, completely covered in dirt and breathing and coughing raggedly having very nearly been suffocated. You barely looked at Bill, who still was attempting to escape the men who had him held against the wagon, the whole thing rocking from the force of them all pushing against it. You helped Sean stand, his nose bleeding heavily though hard to see under the layer of mud covering him. You handed him a cloth and he thanked you feebly. He shook ever so slightly after the incident itself, and the idea that going anywhere near you would incite further punishment from your lover. Lenny nodded in thanks and helped Sean over to his bedroll before rushing for some bandages and water in the opposite direction. The camp had grown quiet, the eerie silence like that after a crash in the sky shook the ground. Dutch, who had been at the farthest edges of camp approached the scene. The heavy sounds of his boots on the ground making Arthur and Charles finally release Bill, who still shook slightly whether from rage or shame it was hard to tell. Dutch hadn’t even the chance to admonish his enforcer when Bill simply stormed past him, the others including yourself worried he had decided to attack the leader. Dutch however knew he wouldn’t, as with every time his anger got the best of him Bill needed to be alone and cool off. When you stepped forward to go after him, Dutch contemplated telling you so, before realising you would simply do as you wished. The both of you were headstrong sure, but he knew if there was to be any avoiding further bouts of violence or equally frustrating wallowing you would be the best one for the job. The men all look at each other once you leave, the routine of Bill’s stubbornness and violent temper taking its toll.

You jogged to meet Bill’s stride next to the horses, already removing Brown Jack’s reigns from the hitching post. He tried poorly to calm the animal that sensed the unease in its master. “Where the hell are you going now? I just asked you not to go out, were you even listening?” You spat, completely exasperated at his behaviour. Bill threw a leg over the horse and adjusted himself in the saddle, peering down at you through the brim of his hat. “I can take care of myself. I’m going out to hunt and…try to make up for all this”. He pulls the reigns of Brown Jack to move back and begin exiting the camp without another word. You heard the shame in his voice, it had nearly cracked at the last words he said but it was no excuse. You had grown tired of this, the stubbornness, the jealousy, the paranoia. You cared for Bill but goddamn if you didn’t think he was more trouble than he’s worth sometimes. Now was definitely one of those moments, as you slowly made your way back to the others, absolutely mortified. Before you could even apologise for his actions (Why were you doing that again?) they were quick to stop you and remind you that he was a grown man. You appreciated their words, to know they didn’t ridicule or pity you but simply understood Bill’s pattern of behaviour. You wondered had it stemmed from his Army days, the need for guidance and clear goals. Whatever the case, those days were long behind him. It was time for him to realise that too.

For the next few hours you occupied yourself with more chores, even helping little Jack with his reading as Hosea had taken to bed after a bout of coughing and spluttering. You gladly took over, allowing him a moments rest in the shade. Jack however was not as thankful, having been glad to see Hosea not particularly up for their lessons, his scowl evident when you sat down beside him and resumed where he left off. You were grateful Jack hadn’t seen the spectacle earlier on, he shouldn’t have to see that kind of behaviour. He was such a sweet boy, always gentle and kind to everyone. Even Bill, making him flower chains and drawings of the two of you. You with a giant grin and Cain the dog in your arms and Bill beside you, a comical frown complete with angry eyebrows and ginormous beard. When you had asked why he was so annoyed he simply said “Oh Uncle Bill always wants to hold Cain! Did you know I saw him singing to him once? I don’t remember what the song was…” He trailed off, drawing shapes into the dirt. You had cherished the picture, it had been a little before you had admitted your feelings to Bill. Since then several other pictures had made their way to your tent. Now instead of a frowny face, Bill sported a grin and you both held Cain. Jack had even drawn little stars around the both of your heads. When questioned on this choice of decoration he’d seriously informed you that Uncle Arthur had said love was a kind of magic. “Don’t you know that?” He asked incredulously, brown eyes staring at you with shock. Once more proving his point that grown-ups were quite silly he thought to himself. 

You thought back to that picture when you finished the lesson, Jack very nearly leaping into the air to scurry off before you changed your mind. You smiled and watched him run to Cain and Abigail, telling her all he’d learnt. The breeze was running through the grass, brushing the pages of the book in your hand, reminding you to set it down. Rising from your chair, you reach inside your pocket and take out the pocket watch Bill had stolen for you. It was now over two hours since he’d left. You chewed your lip, the worry beginning to settle comfortably back into your gut. You looked around camp, the lazy afternoon leaving little else to be taken of and walked over to the hitching posts. You greeted a meek Kieran who was brushing Taima gently. The amount of terror Bill had inflicted on the poor boy left him equally wary of you, as rough as you could be, you’d never dream of such a thing for someone who didn’t deserve. Kieran? Well he definitely didn’t, he was probably the worst outlaw you’d ever met but hey, God loves a tryer. You mounted up, petting your horse’s neck gently and turned to leave. Telling Kieran you’d be back within the hour, he weakly acknowledged your information and waved goodbye.

Tracking Bill wasn’t exactly the hardest of tasks, the man was stuck to a routine. If he didn’t laze about camp, he was out hunting in the same spot as always, close enough to the lake and to the trees about fifteen minutes from camp. If he wasn’t there? You could safely bet he was drinking in Valentine, though that was before he was barred from ever setting foot in the saloon again after the brawl. So that left you with only one possible area to search. Simple enough. You’d gone hunting with him enough times to know where he’d be, barely paying attention to the tracks left from Brown Jack (though you did notice the weight of them as well as the spread, meaning he was really pushing the animal). When you entered the clearing where he usually was, you decided to check the tracks and make things easier for yourself rather than shouting for him and probably ruining a hunt, which would only lead to another bout of sulking from the gruff man. Bringing your horse to a slow trot along the road, you could feel your stomach drop. The marks so clearly left from Brown Jack were no longer solitary, several others appeared from the side of the road near the trees, your eyes scanning the forest before returning to the story unfolding beneath you. Chaos ensued on the dirt road, hooves everywhere and there was clear indication Bill had been ambushed, probably hogtied off his horse by the looks of marks on the grass. A spray of blood was almost lost in the moving blades of grass, thankfully it didn’t look like anything serious. More likely a punch to the nose after a smart comment knowing him as well as you do. A heavy sigh leaves your body. “Well the worst has happened” you thought to yourself calmly. “Now to go fix it” you nodded a thanks to the rational part of your brain before following the trail a little bit ahead as it looped back towards the trees, a trail of smoke visible just above the tree line. “Great. He’s still here, he’s fine. I’ll get him out, tell him off and we’ll be fine.” You reassured yourself, bringing your horse slowing to a stop among the trees and telling him sternly to stay where he was. He bobs his head in a mock sign of understanding you’d swear. “At least someone’s fuckin’ listenin’” You whisper and pat his neck before removing the bolt action rifle from the saddle. 

You approached from the south, careful to tread lightly over branches and undergrowth and shuffling to a large rock outside the camp itself. You listened carefully, loading the rifle in your hands, straining your ears to make it all out. You heard four- no five distinct voices, all the same as the ones you encountered earlier. Your hands grip the rifle in your arms, this was good news. No surprise gang of bounty hunters to deal with, just these. You heard them discuss the bounty, not being able to hear any snide remarks being thrown back was a worry, but when you peered from behind the boulder you could see him tied to a post and gagged. You raise your eyes and silently thank whoever’s listening for that being all the did to shut him up. When you look again, you think you make out a broken nose, confirming your suspicions earlier. One of the men, the leader you presume approaches Bill who had grown quiet and looked defeated. He kneels down to look at him, flicking his hat to the sky to get a good look at him. The leader leans in closer, his words unknown to you but whatever the case, they cause Bill to buck upright and slam him his head into the nose of the leader, falling back and smacking his skull on the stone circle around the fire. You smirk at the exchange and decide now is the time to strike, before the leader can retaliate, he’s shot through the neck, blood splaying onto a now screaming Bill. His muffled shouts of terror accompanied by shouts from the other men, darting their heads around to find the source. 

“Shit!” several men seem to chant in answer and scramble for cover, the only sources of which being canvas tents and wooden crates that are made little work of with express rounds. Several more rounds are fired, one after the other as they finally set eyes on your form against the boulder. Taking a moment to reload before shooting wildly, into heads, chests and stomachs before all that remains is a terrified Bill in a sea of corpses, still smoking from their wounds and the fire in the centre of a now decimated camp. Bill’s whimpers are stopped when he sees you step out from behind the moss-covered boulder, rifle ready for any surprises. When you count the number of dead, you finally relax and sling it over your shoulder. Rather than run to his rescue and release him from the binds at his wrists that are now painfully being pulled at by Bill in an attempt to release himself, you decide to extend the punishment. “Why not give him a taste of his own medicine?” You think to yourself as you slowly begin to walk over to each of the corpses. Looting dead bodies wasn’t exactly very honourable but then again neither is shooting several men dead. You examine every body you find, encountering some valuable loot you’ll be sure Dutch’ll be delighted to see. All the while you’re looting the bodies you hear Bill shout and scream behind the bandana in his mouth, pretending you don’t hear him you whistle the tune you had Arthur sing this this morning – driving Bill completely mad at the post. He begins to pull himself forward to the pole, only to hear something pop in his shoulder, a yelp escapes him as he collapses against it in a huff. Not getting your attention in the slightest. His shoulders ache from the position, his knees have long lost any feeling and his wrists burning voraciously from the thick rope. 

You rise and stretch your back, raising your hands above you as you dramatically yawn, hearing grunts coming from the pole at the back of camp. You decide you’ve looted enough, your satchel growing heavy across your shoulders and throw it across camp, landing with a thud beside Bill’s left knee. He perks up at this and his bright eyes follow your every move towards him, believing now he’s suffered enough, right? Well. In your book he hadn’t, not quite yet. He awkwardly shifts in place, the ties at his ankles preventing him knees from closing. You manage to drag the leader’s corpse away from his feet, dropping him with a sick thud. You decline from observing Bill directly just yet, sauntering over to one of the wooden chairs at the fire and dragging it through the dirt and ash until it’s placed directly where the dead body had been. You make sure that it’s completely settled in the dirt, knowing that you’re only further infuriating Bill before you settle down with a sigh leaning back into the chair. You finally allow yourself to look at him, undeniably your heart aches to see him so badly bruised, the broken nose split wide across the bridge not completely stopped bleeding. His left eye is bruised as well, a deep violet beginning to bubble underneath the skin already. When your gaze met his actual eyes you could see the deep glare he gave you. Though he was glad it had been you to come for him, he was tired and beginning to feel embarrassed about the entire situation. You didn’t appreciate the look he gave you, after all that? “He can wait a little bit longer” You decide for him and pull a trampled cigarette you lifted from one of the corpses to your lips, leaning forward and striking the match on the pole Bill was tied to. The spark that ignited between his head and tied hands made him jump, shifting uncomfortably while you reclined and enjoyed the somewhat battered cigarette. You said nothing for a long time. Letting the puffs of smoke leave your mouth and nose for a while. His eyes no longer met yours, instead facing towards your stained boots. His heavy breathing had begun to calm, but remained deep and laboured as time went on. 

“I hate to say I told you so, big guy but…” You trailed off as you flicked the remainder of ash away from your fingers, watching it drift towards your black trousers before throwing it to the ground, grinding it with the toe of your boots. Watching the smoke extinguish, your eyes begin to trail towards Bill, whose shifting had not stopped in the last few minutes. About to open your mouth about his impatience again you were left speechless at the sight before you. Your eyes hadn’t registered it before, and quite frankly you couldn’t believe it. But there it was. An unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his worn and frayed workpants. As you hadn’t said anything yet, and Bill still didn’t meet your eyes, you simply stared. “Of all the times” you thought smugly. Though you hadn’t gotten a chance to be intimate with Bill as of yet, what with the constant presence of the gang in camp the thought was always there. Now? There was nothing to stop it. You hadn’t even considered that Bill would be so responsive to being ignored, to be embarrassed in front of you in this manner. He rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, and this was by far the most compromising position he’d been put in in front of you. The idea of being submissive to you had sometimes crossed Bill’s mind, he appreciated your sense of self and the confidence you held. He loved to watch you correct and admonish the others around camp for just about anything, and truth be told he’d spent a few shifts of guard duty hazily dreaming of that stern glare being turned onto him, shifting his stance awkwardly as he did now. Importantly, he didn’t have anywhere to hide away and relieve himself to the thought. Now he had to face the music.

You smack your knee is disbelief, trying your upmost to hide your delight. Leaning forward once more, you move your foot closer to his groin and relish in the jump as he realises you’ve caught on. You flick his hat upwards, the similarity to the dead bounty men leader not lost on him as you guide his face to look at yours. Rather than being met with disgust, Bill sees only a sweet smile and faint blush creep its way across your cheeks. He furrows his brow, heart fluttering and heat pooling lower and lower as you look at him. The idea that you’d be willing to indulge him like this almost brings tears to eyes, but they simply well at the corners. You hadn’t even touched him properly yet, and took great pleasure in how long you dragged out stroking his cheek and beard between your fingertips. Trailing your fingers downwards you stroke them lightly over his throat to his Adam’s apple, noticing the way it bobs occasionally as he nervously swallows and bites around the gag anxiously. You see the blood spays on his shoulder from where you’d shot the leader, it faintly marks his lower neck and the beginnings of his chest. Following the invisible trail set by your own whim, you sink your fingers in the thick layer of hair he sports, rubbing lower and occasionally dragging your nails across. He quietly whimpers at this, a sound no man would ever think an outlaw like Bill Williamson would ever make but here he was, loving every second of the attention offered to him.

“Is this good, big guy?” Nails sinking further south as far as his v neck vest allows, when you can reach no further, you detour to the right and smile lightly when you find his nipples hard and hot at the touch. Heaving breaths are your only answer as he strains to get further contact, hips beginning to buck on their own accord. You remove your hand from his undershirt, and decide the moment calls for being a little forward and reach lower to cup him through his trousers. This rapid development evokes a strangled groan from Bill, feeling little relief in the contact and desperately wanting more. He trembles slightly and raises himself forward when you begin to loosen his belt, heart now hammering in his chest and ringing through his ears. “I’ve been wanting to touch you for a while now, y’know?” You whisper to him, trying to catch his eye and ultimately halt the process of undressing his lower half to get it. The words finally reach him and you watch him flex his hands above him, and he nods solemnly in agreement. A strange place to have a heart to heart, you think it best to continue because the beet red shade of his face spreading down his neck shows you how desperate he really is. To be touched, rewarded and allowed release from you is the only thing running through his mind. “I really shouldn’t be doing this at all, you don’t really deserve it do you?” You tut at him as you finally reach and draw him from his underclothes, falling heavily into your hand. You had barely touched him but you could already feel the beads of precum lining him in your smaller hand. You admire him, finally seeing what so often you’d dreamt of on quiet nights and lazy mornings in your tent. He wasn’t altogether large, more…heavy like the rest of him but with a girth you could feel yourself shiver at the thought of. Bill took quick shallow breaths at the sight of you with him in hand, and the words of admonishment you’d uttered made him twitch in your palm. He knew he didn’t deserve this, any of it. Least of all from you, though he wasn’t the best with words he thought of you often and wanted to convey his feelings through touch and shows of affection. This total submission on his part, was perhaps the greatest display he’d put on for anyone in his life. It mightn’t have started out with that intention, but then again you can’t plan for everything. 

You stroke him softly, spreading the precum down his length not only to get a feel of him but to draw him back to the present. You’d watched him almost drift off in his own daydream, and wanted that attention brought to the here and now, to let him really participate as much as he could. You decide talking is probably the best thing to keep him grounded in the moment, and begin to set out a slow rhythm of strokes and squeezes down his shaft. Making his eyes snap open and heave a deep sigh from his broad chest. Eyes set on you.

“You’re not gonna run off like that again, are you, big guy?” Your whisper masked by a series of grunts as you squeeze him at the base a little to emphasis your words. He shakes his head violently, and is rewarded with quicker strokes, the sound becoming obscene to his ears and a delight to your own. The more you continue, the more erratic his own pathetic thrusts become, unable to move any farther forward from the wooden pole.

“That’s good to know. ‘Cos I need you to learn this lesson, and to know that good boys get rewards. If you listen up when I tell you to, you’ll be my special boy, my only one” You cooed and nod at him in time with the tighter strokes you give him, his eyes beginning to overflow at the words you spoke running around his head over and over. Your other hand now reaching farther down to grasp his balls through an equally dark mass of hair, earning a greater cry of pleasure than you’d heard since you started. That’s a noise you’d never get sick of.

“That’s only if you’re good and listen to me. If not? Well bad boys get nothing” You state, emphasising the point by letting go of him completely. A frustrated sob comes out, it nearly breaks your heart to hear. Very nearly. He immediately mourns the loss of contact, hips involuntarily continuing to buck and thrust for any sort of relief. The only contact is from the breeze through the camp that wafts the dying campfire to them. Bill’s weak attempts to move forward only heighten his own enjoyment of the situation, but nonetheless it causes him to throw his head backwards against the pole in frustration. His hat knocked off entirely in the process, eyes now clearly pleading for you to finish him off quickly. You’d have to be blind to misunderstand the message in his gaze. The longer you stare, the more enthusiastically he begins to nod in total submission. Entirely at your mercy. Each nod another request for forgiveness for his faults, his stubbornness and anger and moods that leave you speechless and lonely. You lean forward once more, offering a peck to his forehead and leaning your own against it before taking his cock in hand once more. You egg him on quietly, his own responses anything but as he reaches closer and closer to his release at your hand. Your own quick breathes mix with his shallow exhales through his bloodied nose and his whimpers become even more frequent and needy.

“There we go. Come on, big guy. Come on, come on. Nearly there…You’re my good boy. Right? That’s it, baby, you’re so good for me, Bill” You praise, kissing away escaping tears running down his bruised and heated face. You feel him thrust deep into your hand once, then twice before he finishes with a desperate sob and falling completely slack against you. You let him rest for a moment, continuing the little touches on his slick cock and gathering his spend on your fingers. The touch only serving to draw breathless exhales as he nuzzles the crook of your neck as thanks. Pulling him back towards the pole, you lift a hand to draw the soaking wet bandana from his mouth and stroke his cheek lightly with your thumb. You raise the other, fingertips covered in his own cum to his lips. Without any instruction or protest at all, he opens his wet mouth to gather your fingers in. Tongue lazily circling the digits further into his mouth before sucking gently but thoroughly. He hums at the taste, a rumble emerging from deep within his chest - relishing in the afterglow of it all. You finally draw your fingers from his mouth, saliva dripping from his eagerness before pulling him in for a deep and heated kiss. You both groan into the others lips, letting the only sound be that of the nesting birds above in the treeline. The kiss unfortunately breaks but you move forward to cut the bonds at his wrists and ankles allowing him to fall into your warm and welcoming lap. Shoulders trembling and twitching from being able to finally move, but he remains still as you run a hand along the back of his neck, scratching upwards into his hair. His exhales are even and relaxed, he loved to have you do this. Just let him relax against you in silence, it made him feel like he could do anything anyone asked of him, rob a bank singlehandedly, bring down a bison in one swoop, so long as he got to experience this at the end of each day he’d willingly accept.

You stayed like that for a long time, just holding onto him as he came back to earth. You watch the sun through the branches above, and reluctantly decide to return to camp. You brush his cheek once more, noticing his eyes open and look to you with that same hazed expression from that morning. You nod to him and help him stand to his feet, the hours he’d spent tied to the pole leaving him to walk like a newly born foal back to the horses. He mounts up after another deep kiss, and a heartfelt apology for his behaviour in camp.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that, I know. It wasn’t that I believed Sean. I-I was just sick of…” He struggled to find the word, his croaky voice not helping him find it. You kissed him quickly and took his hand in yours. “Look, I know. I don’t think anyone in camp can really blame you. You just did what they’ve all been dreaming of!” He giggled at that and agreed with you, silently grateful you were no longer upset with his actions. You’d nearly mounted up as well before sprinting back for your satchel and Bill’s hat, the latter being placed roughly on his head as you arrived back to him. He snorted and adjusted it to taste before spurring Brown Jack back towards Horseshoe Overlook. You follow suit and fall into step with one another on the ride back. You were of course going to get teased mercilessly for taking so long, and Bill would never hear the end of it from the boys but truth be told, neither of you cared all too much. Things could always be worse, today had proved that tenfold. As much trouble as he was, you had to admit that Bill was rather worth it all. Something told you that from now on he’d be on his best behaviour in camp - well…as good as can be expected. There’s always room to improve.


End file.
